A Name On A Stone
by Jessyca Thornbrook
Summary: How could anyone, even an insensitive baka like Mamoru, hate Mother's Day? Usagi can't imagine, but she's determined to find out and make it right. Boy, is she in over her head!
1. A Shot In The Dark

I don't own anything to do with Sailormoon, but you knew that already, you clever people!

A Name on a Stone

by Jessyca Thornbrook

Chapter 1: A Shot In The Dark

Tsukino Usagi bounced into the Crown Arcade one Saturday morning, glowing like a firefly and flinging smiles in every direction. "Ohayo gozaimasu, Motoki-san!" she sang out. "A chocolate sundae, please!" She danced over to the counter and flopped down contentedly.

At the other end of the counter, Chiba Mamoru perched on his stool like a gargoyle on a cathedral, glowering down on the world in general. His gaze sharpened and fixed on the blond girl humming happily to herself as she rummaged through her shopping bags. His scowl intensified.

Motoki returned with Usagi's sundae. "Hitting the hard stuff a little early today, aren't you?" he teased as she attacked the ice cream gleefully.

"No way!" she delcared between bites. "It's never too early for ice cream! Besides, I've been so busy this morning, I _need_ ice cream to keep me going!"

"Oh? What have you been up to?"

"Shopping!" she replied, as if the word was somehow innately satisfying to say. "I found the _perfect_ present for my mom."

"Let me guess," a sarcastic voice broke in, "it's an apology present for failing another exam. It must've been pretty bad to drag you out of bed before noon."

Usagi stiffened, and her eyes narrowed to slits. "No," she said icily, "it's a Mother's Day present, for your information." Mamoru said nothing, returning his attention to the textbook in front of him. Usagi's expression grew even more offended when he ignored her. Motoki jumped in, anxious to head off yet another argument.

"So what did you get her?" he inquired.

Usagi's face brightened immediately. "Let's see, I got her some chocolate," she fished a large box out of one bag.

"Say it with fattening food. How thoughtful," mumbled Mamoru. Usagi's head whipped around in his direction.

"_Not_ that it's any of _your_ business, but these happen to be her favorite chocolates in the world, and they're expensive, too!" she snapped. "What did you get _your_ mom, Mr. Perfect? Tofu and alfalfa sprouts?" Once again Mamoru turned back to his book without a word.

"So, Usagi-chan, what else--" Motoki tried to ask.

"What, did you forget that tomorrow's Mother's Day?" she continued, oblivious to Motoki's desperate attempt to divert her attention. "That's it, isn't it?" she giggled. "You forgot! Mr. Know-it-all forgo-ot!" she teased in a sing-song voice.

Mamoru suddenly slammed his book shut and turned on her with fury in every feature. "I wish I _could_!" he snarled. Then he got up, nearly knocking over his stool, and stalked out of the arcade.

Usagi sat stunned and trembling, her eyes wide, until Motoki touched her elbow. "Are you okay?"

"Wha--what did I do?" she stammered in a small voice. "I was just joking..." she trailed off, her big eyes filling with tears.

Motoki did his best to reassure her. "It's not your fault. He's had a rough week, school and stuff, and he--he just doesn't go in for holidays like this."

"Why not? Doesn't he like his mom?" she asked, voice still wavering. Motoki hesitated, looking uncomfortable. A new thought suddenly occured to Usagi, and her eyes grew even rounder. "Doesn't he..._have_ a mom?"

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Okay, so that's chapter one. Chapter two, coming right up!


	2. A Slap In The Face

As threatened, here's the next bit.

A Name on a Stone

by Jessyca Thornbrook

Chapter 2: A Slap In The Face

Later that afternoon, Mamoru's studying was interrupted by the doorbell. He sighed as he got up to answer it--not that he'd turned a page in his physics book in the last half-hour, anyway. He was mad at himself for letting that silly Odango Atama bother him. She was just a kid, after all. He shouldn't have paid attention to anything she said. He was just irritated that he'd bothered speaking to her in the first place. It wasn't that he felt guilty. _She_ was the one being nosy and annoying. He had nothing to feel guilty _for_.

Right?

He opened the door, ready to assure his best friend that everything was fine, he'd just been stressed out about an exam all week and had snapped at the girl to let off some steam. He froze when his eyes fell on the bedraggled figure that was definitely _not_ Motoki.

Neither of them spoke for they knew not how long. Mamoru felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him--by surprise, no doubt. After all, a dripping wet Odango Atama was definitely not something he'd been expecting to turn up on his doorstep. And she _was_ sopping wet, her long hair plastered to her shoulders, framing her face with a waterfall rather than the usual golden cloud. Not that it mattered what her hair looked like now or at any other time.

For her part, Usagi felt like the bottom had dropped out of her stomach...down to the first floor of the high-rise, or possibly the basement. It was because he'd been so angry the last time she'd seen him. Of course she was nervous about talking to him! But for some bizarre reason she couldn't quite work out, the impression of deep blue eyes lingered in her mind.

He finally pulled a sentence together. "What happened to you?"

"It's raining."

"Oh."

Pause.

Then,

"I, uh--" began Usagi.

"Um, you--" Mamoru started. They both stopped, and Usagi giggled, though a bit nervously. Mamoru smiled slightly, surprising even himself. "Ah--why don't you come in? I'll get you a towel. Or two," he added, looking her over again.

"Thanks," she murmured, blushing a bit as she stepped inside. She looked around tentatively, as if worried she might break something with a mere glance. Mamoru suppressed a grin--something he did more often around her than around anyone else, he reflected absently. Then scowled. Where did _that_ come from?

"I'll be right back," he mumbled. When he returned a few seconds later, she was still standing by the door, hands clasped in front of her, as if to make it clear she wasn't touching anything. Water trickled from the ends of her long pigtails, pooling on the linoleum of the entryway. She had slipped her shoes off and was standing on top of them, unwilling to drip all over his hardwood floor. The black of her shoes had soaked into her white socks in splotches, and the socks themselves were wet through. All in all, she made a rather pathetic figure, but there was something kind of, well, _cute_--for lack of a better word--in the way she stood there, big blue eyes soaking up every detail of the room--though she was obviously trying not to look like she was snooping.

"Here," he held out one of the big, fluffy bath towels. She accepted it with a grateful smile, which somehow made him feel grateful, too, though he wasn't sure what for. She dried her face and neck, and started squeezing water out of her hair with the towel. As was inevitable, being Usagi and trying to balance on top of her shoes, her equilibrium failed and she started to topple over. Acting fast, Mamoru grabbed her arm just as she turned her head, and _smack!_ he got a sopping pigtail right in the face.

"Ohh!" she yelped when she saw her wet hair plastered across the front of his head. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" He blinked, looking stunned, and dabbed the water from his face with the towel he still held. "I'm so sorry!" she kept apologizing, eyes filling with tears. _Now I'm in for it! Why do I always end up hitting him with something? It's no wonder he can't stand me!_ The tears threatened to overflow.

Then Mamoru did something that shocked the living daylights out of both of them. He _laughed_. Not very loud or very long, but an honest-to-goodness laugh containing genuine amusement at the situation. Usagi's jaw dropped.

The moment passed, leaving Mamoru feeling strange and embarrassed. He let go of Usagi's arm and took a step back.

"Uh--here, I think there's a better way to do this," he said quickly. He spread his towel out on the floor. "There. You can stand on that."

She did, and the rest of the drying process went much more smoothly, though he still had to steady her once or twice while she was peeling off her socks. Once she was relatively dry, the tense silence stretched out between them again.

Still trying to find a diplomatic way to phrase 'what the heck are you doing here,' Mamoru offered her some tea. She accepted, sitting carefully on the edge of a chair, trying not to leave a water mark and feeling more uncomfortable than she could ever remember feeling before. He handed her the cup and she took a nervous gulp, burning her tongue, as he sat down across from her.

"So," said Mamoru, feeling that _something_ must be said, and having no idea what it should be.

Usagi took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. Time to face the lion in his den. And hope she didn't get eaten. With all the confidence of a small, furry appetizer, she plunged ahead.

"I came to apologize. I'm sorry I teased you, I was just kidding but I should have kept my mouth shut, and I didn't mean to make you mad or hurt your feelings! Gomen nasai!" she stood and bowed, only just managing not to spill her tea. The words tumbled out so fast they were barely comprehensible, but Mamoru caught the general idea.

Dozens of thoughts swirled and crashed through his brain, but one simple concept dominated:

_She knows_.

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Tune in next time for, you guessed it...chapter three!


	3. A Stab In The Back

I'll give this chapter a PG-13 for Mamoru's choice of language when he's beating up on himself. I can't really wash his mouth out with soap, since he's bigger than I am (and more animated)...

Sailormoon: not mine. This story: mine.

A Name on a Stone

by Jessyca Thornbrook

Chapter 3: A Stab In The Back

As Mamoru mentally scrambled to repair the gaping hole in his defensive perimeter, Usagi debated the merits of bolting. She finally decided against it, judging the potential for humiliating disaster too high to risk. She was, after all, barefoot, holding an expensive-looking cup filled with very hot tea, and a good six or seven meters from the door. No, better to stay and get yelled at than end up destroying the china, getting scalded, and probably face-planting on the slippery linoleum and breaking her nose. She sat down and braced herself for the onslaught.

"Motoki-kun. . . told you?" Mamoru spoke quietly, surprising--but not exactly reassuring--his guest.

"No," she said quickly, "he didn't tell me! I mean, I kind of guessed, and he couldn't lie to me about it. Well," she amended, "I guess he _could_ have lied, but Motoki-san wouldn't do that."

"No," Mamoru agreed slowly, "he wouldn't." His voice was calm, but it was a stunned calm, rather than his usual smooth self-control.

"But he didn't tell me anything," Usagi rushed on, a little frantically. "I could just kind of tell from the look on his face that I was right. I won't tell anyone," she added. "Not like it's something bad, or embarrassing or anything, just. . . I mean. . ." she floundered for a moment, ". . . I won't talk about it to anybody, if you don't want me to."

"Thank you," he said stiffly. "I. . . don't talk about it. Motoki's the only person who knows. Well, except for the people at the orphanage," the words slipped out before he knew what he was saying. Usagi looked as surprised as he felt. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she digested this new idea.

"Did you grow up there?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, how old were you when, when--" she stopped herself.

_You've gone this far, might as well finish it_, he thought dimly. "I was six. It was a car crash. I was the only survivor. I don't remember it. I have amnesia."

Usagi listened to him recite this tragedy as if he were recalling facts from a textbook, and the sudden pain welling up in her chest almost choked her. She looked down at her lap for a moment, then back at him as a new thought struck her. "Are you going to take her some flowers tomorrow? For Mother's Day, I mean."

Mamoru blinked at her for several seconds before comprehending. "No, uh, I've never, um, I--I don't know where she's buried."

She stared in shock, and he could only stare back. Why was he telling her this? Why had he even let her in? From the look on Usagi's face, he guessed she was struggling with the same questions, but something else came through even more clearly. Not the pity he'd expected, or the contempt he'd received so often as a child, or even the awkward sympathy of Motoki when he had first found out. This was. . . different.

"You don't know where she's buried," she echoed him.

"No," he tried to shrug casually. "Nobody ever told me. I don't know anything about my parents."

"Didn't you ever try to find out?" she asked, her intense blue gaze unwavering.

"No." He looked out the window, unable for some reason to meet her eyes any longer.

"Why not?" Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

He shrugged. "It wouldn't make a difference." He almost masked the tiny note of bitterness in his words.

"It might." She _was_ whispering now, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. Mamoru found his own eyes drawn irresistibly back to them, and for a moment something connected. He felt as though they were looking into each other, past surface thoughts and feelings, down to their souls, if such things existed. He couldn't breathe. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

Then his defense system kicked into high gear. He stood up abruptly. "Don't get all weepy about it. It's no big deal," he said, more harshly than he'd meant to.

Usagi looked as if he'd dumped a large quantity of icewater over her head. "Huh?" was all she managed to say.

He rolled his eyes, disgusted with himself even as he did it. "Look, thanks for stopping by and everything, but I've really got to study." He walked to the door and opened it, waiting for her to leave. _You're being horrible!_ his conscience screamed at him, but there was no turning back now.

"Oh, right," she stammered, getting to her feet and gathering her things clumsily. She walked slowly to the door, then paused, looking up at him with something like hope in her clear eyes.

_Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it!_ "Sorry, Odango Atama," he sneered, "but I do actually have _important_ things to do today." _Jerk!_

Those trusting eyes filled with tears, and her mouth became a hard line. "Fine. I have other things to do, too!" she snapped, but something was missing in her voice, a certain weight of conviction. Something had changed. She turned and stomped off down the hall, but Mamoru couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen far more than he'd wanted her to.

He closed the door and leaned against it, trying to quiet his uneasiness. That was when the accusing voice in his head _really_ got going! _You jerk!_ he screamed at himself. _You cruel, backstabbing bastard! You accept her apology and then sucker-punch her when she's completely defenseless! What kind of monster are you?_

This time, his attempts to shrug it off were useless. He knew he'd done something unforgivable. He was ashamed. He'd invited her in and then chucked her out. He was despicable. He _deserved_ to be alone in the world.

Outside, Usagi trudged slowly home in the drizzling rain. She looked small and sad as she shuffled along, head bent, rain dripping off the end of her nose. Anyone who saw her might very well expect her to be in tears.

But she wasn't. Her expression was deeply thoughtful. She barely noticed the rain. She had realized something, at least in part, and the new idea was mind-boggling. The more she thought, the more amazed she became, and the slower she walked, until finally she stopped altogether, eyes wide but oblivious to everything around her.

"So that's it," she said softly to no one.

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Next time: a boy, a girl, a beverage explosion...now that's romance. Otherwise known as chapter four.


	4. A Shake In The Eye

"Oh, I can't make up my mind! Does this dress make me look like I don't own Sailor Moon?"

A Name on a Stone

by Jessyca Thornbrook

Chapter 4: A Shake In The Eye

When Usagi entered the arcade the following Monday afternoon, Mamoru's well-intentioned resolve crumbled. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. The simple apology he had planned and rehearsed now seemed impossibly complicated. He couldn't do it. He'd say it wrong, he'd look like a fool, he'd insult her again, he'd be laughed at. He couldn't do it!

But he had to do _something_, didn't he? Or did it really matter that much? They were always fighting, anyway. He could just leave it, let things go back to normal. That would make the most sense...and yet, the very idea made his throat constrict and his stomach clench up.

No, he couldn't just leave it alone. But he couldn't just walk up and apologize, either. Especially not in front of all her friends, who were currently clustered around the counter, ordering drinks and snacks. Usagi was the last to order, since she was still wavering between ice cream and milkshakes while Motoki was waiting on the others. She finally decided on a chocolate milkshake, just as Motoki handed the last of her friends her order. The girls grabbed a booth near the back, and Usagi was left alone at the counter, waiting while Motoki got more ice cream out of the walk-in freezer for her milkshake.

_This is it!_ Mamoru's mind told him. _She's by herself. Go talk to her!_ He got up slowly and moved toward the counter. He stepped up behind her, opened his mouth to speak--and froze. The words just wouldn't come out. In a moment he would turn and flee for his life—or at least his dignity. He just wasn't cut out for making apologies.

Before the unfortunate Mamoru could summon the strength to retreat, however, Motoki returned, presented Usagi with a large chocolate milkshake, and then looked up in surprise at his friend. Mamoru realized he must look strange, looming over the girl with, he suspected, a less than brilliant expression on his face. While he was still thinking of possible explanations for his presence, Usagi decided to join her friends. In a single motion she turned and took a bouncy step, full of her usual energy and enthusiasm.

And the inevitable happened. Mamoru never thought to dodge. Usagi certainly didn't expect him to be there. And the poor, defenseless milkshake was caught in the middle. Literally. A _pop!_ and _skloosh!_ later, Mamoru's green blazer was liberally spattered with milky ice cream. Usagi took most of it in the face, and had apparently taken a breath just as the collision occurred, so she was now choking. Mamoru just stood there dazedly, so Motoki leaned across the counter and pounded Usagi on the back--not _too_ hard, though. As the girl began breathing normally, Mamoru did regain enough presence of mind to hand her all the paper napkins within his reach--unfortunately, there weren't many.

Motoki quickly grabbed a damp towel from beside the sink and was about to go around the counter to help, but something made him stop. He handed the towel to Mamoru instead.

Mamoru tried to give it to Usagi, but her hands were full of soggy napkins, and she couldn't open her eyes without getting ice cream in them. She rubbed at them but only succeeded in making things worse.

"Here," Mamoru said finally, pushing her hands away from her face, "stop. Let me." He softly dabbed the ice cream from her eyelids, gently away from the corners of her eyes, and then continued carefully washing the rest of her face, finishing under her chin. Without his intent, the last stroke of the cloth tipped her face up toward his, just as she opened her eyes.

There it was again--that familiar feeling of connection. Why it should feel so familiar when it had only happened once before--to his knowledge--was a mystery that should be explored later, he thought dimly. All his thoughts were hazy, except the ones that focused on the pretty face looking up at him. _When did she become pretty?_

"Thanks," Usagi whispered after a long pause. The spell was broken, and Mamoru was suddenly aware that: a) they were standing very close and b) Motoki was watching with eyebrows raised so high they began to disappear into his hairline. Mamoru took a quick step back.

"Um, sure. No problem. It was my fault. Sorry," he stammered, eyes fixing desperately on an imaginary point somewhere over Usagi's left shoulder.

She took a long time to reply. Mamoru glanced back at her face, afraid she might be drawing breath for one of her trademark ear-splitting wails, but to his surprise, she was smiling.

"S'okay. No major damage." Her smile widened, then faded. "Sorry about your jacket." Mamoru looked down--he had forgotten about his own appearance. He swiped at the ice cream with the washcloth, then shook his head and shrugged off the blazer, rolling it up loosely, ice cream side inward.

"Well, I guess that's what washing machines are for," he grinned lopsidedly. Usagi giggled, then dropped her eyes quickly. "Uh, I'll buy you another milkshake," he offered awkwardly.

"Oh! Thanks. You don't have to or anything." Usagi felt her face grow warm for some reason. _What's wrong with me? He only _smiled_, for crying out loud!_ She hoped she wasn't blushing.

"No, really, I--I owe you one." Something in his tone made her look up at him again. The strange insight that had struck her on Saturday was now telling her that Mamoru wasn't just talking about milkshakes. _It's almost like...an apology? From Mamoru-san?_

"Okay," she said uncertainly. His expression was relieved--almost happy, even. It looked good on him.

"One more chocolate milkshake, coming right up!" said Motoki, hiding a grin fairly ineffectively. Fortunately, neither of his customers seemed to notice.

"Thank you," said Usagi. She turned back to Mamoru, speaking carefully. "Thanks. Looks like we're even now." _Does he understand?_

He gauged her smile and the warmth in her voice.

"Yeah, I hope so." _She understands._

At the other end of the arcade, Rei and Makoto were engaged an animated discussion of modern cinema. Ami had her nose buried in a textbook of alarming proportions, as usual. Minako _had_ been actively siding with Makoto in the Legolas versus Aragorn debate, but for some reason she suddenly lost interest. She felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to look behind her. Obeying it, she witnessed what appeared to be the end of a conversation between Usagi-chan and...Chiba Mamoru? And no one was shouting? _What goes on here?_ Motoki handed Usagi a milkshake, though it took a moment for him to get her attention. Usagi said something to Mamoru which looked like "See ya," and headed back toward their booth. Mamoru turned, watching her walk away. _What's with _that_ look?_ thought Minako, squinting. _Ooh, I wish I was closer!_ Just then, Mamoru caught her eye, and she turned quickly back toward the table.

"Viggo's too old!" Makoto insisted. "He could be your father or something!" Her eyes went all starry. "Orlando's a much better age. And he's just so..." she paused, hunting for a sufficiently sublime adjective.

"Blond?" Rei suggested scornfully.

"He's not blond in real life! And anyway, what's wrong with blond?" Makoto defended her champion.

"What's wrong with a more mature guy?" countered Rei.

"Oh, come on! Usagi, what do you think?" Makoto asked. Usagi, who had just sat down, blinked at her.

"Huh?"

"Who do you like best? Legolas or Aragorn?" Rei demanded.

"Huh?" said Usagi again.

"Oh, never mind!" Rei rolled her eyes.

"How about you, Ami-chan?"

"I like Faramir," said Ami without looking up from her book.

"Wha-a-at?"

Minako had lost track of the argument. She was too busy studying the pink stains now fading from Usagi's cheeks as she sipped her milkshake. The Senshi of Love pursed her lips thoughtfully. _I wonder..._

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Ta-da! Most of this was written quite late at night, and all causes for criticism may be attributed to that fact.


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